


Am I Blu?

by CyborgWrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Writer AU, but shiro doesnt know at first, fanboy shiro, lance writes sci fi books and shiro loves him, marine shiro, writer lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyborgWrites/pseuds/CyborgWrites
Summary: based on my tumblr post:Lance is a popular sci-fi writer who writes under the pseudonym "Leandro Blu". Upon entering Coran's barbershop he finds an attractive veteran named Shiro reading one of his books. Shiro has no idea the man he spoke to in the barbershop is his favorite author. Things take off from there.Discontinued





	1. Barbershop Blus

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank everyone who reblogged and made suggestions.  
> Gina voice: give the people what they want.

Lance rubbed his hands over his face for what felt like the millionth time. He’d been warring with words in his mind for hours now and felt no closer to finishing his book than he should have.

It was roughly nine in the morning when the phone rang, the Star Trek theme song playing loudly enough to disrupt him from his non-thoughts.

Disgruntled, he looked away from his computer, cursing to himself when he saw silver hair and bronze skin on the caller ID photo. He forgot that sometimes headaches came in beautiful packages. Though he would do himself no favors by not answering, so he did.

“Hello?”

“Lance…”

“Yes, Allura… yes I know when the deadline- no I’m not-”

He wanted to throw his phone at the wall.

“I understand writer’s block, Lance, but this is-”

He rolled his eyes, getting up and leaning against his desk, his computer light mocking him as his publisher spoke on the other end of the call.

“Look, I’ll have the manuscript ready soon. It’s half done. Just… cut me a break, yeah?”

“Lance-”

“Have I ever let you down before?” he asked.

“No,” she said, and he could almost picture her smiling in her office as she said so.  “Two weeks, Lance. You have to give me something, alright?”

“You got it.”

“Good. And go get a haircut. You look awful.”

“How did you know I need a haircut? You haven’t even seen me!”

“I just know. Bye, Lance.”

He heard the line click and stared at his phone. “How does she do that?”

He looked out the window of his study, catching sight of his reflection and cringing.

She was right.

He really needed a haircut.

The barbershop he frequented was owned by an old friend of his father’s.

Coran was an interesting man with an interesting ginger mustache, but Lance loved him like an uncle and he didn’t trust anyone else with his hair.

He walked in as he usually did, waving to Coran who was busy attending to some long-haired fellow with hair that reminded Lance of Allura. Lance was sure he’d seen him around somewhere.

He went to take a seat in the waiting area only to find someone already there. He was muscular, with a chiseled jaw and strong brows, and Asian if Lance had to guess although he wasn’t sure from where and he didn’t know him well enough to ask. He also had long black hair that had a stripe of white going through it that made Lance wonder if it was natural. The last thing he noted was the visible prosthetic arm.

He looked like someone out of Lance’s books, he thought to himself.

Speaking of books, the stranger was deeply immersed in one.

Lance looked closer as he sat next to him and stifled a laugh when he recognized the title and his own pseudonym.

It was his book. The hot stranger was reading Lance’s book in his favorite barbershop. What were the odds?

“Blu’s ‘Galactic Paladin’…Good read?” he asked, catching his attention.

Grey eyes looked up at him in surprise. But he smiled all the same, responding in a strong yet polite tone.

“Yes. Definitely.”

Lance was grinning.

“Is that right?”

The other nodded, a shy smile on his lips. “Leandro Blu is my favorite author.”

At this, Lance’s eyes widened. He knew he was a capable writer but… good enough to be this fine stranger’s _favorite_?

“That’s high praise. What’s so special about the guy?” he asked, feigning nonchalance.

If it came off rude, Lance didn’t mean for it to and he wasn’t sure if this guy was actually offended but Lance certainly lit a spark in him.

“Well aside from writing diverse characters in sci-fi as far as race and orientations he writes disabled characters as actual people and like he cares about our stories-”

“Which is important to you,” Lance guessed.

He flushed. “Exactly. And he has excellent world building skills.”

“A must-have in the sci-fi genre, for sure.”

The man nodded. “And his prose is the perfect medium between sophisticated and colloquial. His writing reads like someone you could meet and talk to without feeling like an idiot.”

“An assumption he might appreciate if he heard it,” Lance said, allowing himself to smirk.

“I could only wish,” muttered the yet unnamed fan.

“It’s more likely than you think… uh…”

“Shiro,” he said, offering his hand, the other firmly clutching his book.

Lance shook it noting it was the prosthetic.

“And no one in the general public knows Blu.”

Lance doesn't know why he says it but he does.

“I do.”

Shiro gasped. “No way. You’re messing with me.”

Lance shook his head. “I’m not. Cross my heart. I know him pretty well actually.”

Shiro leaned back in his chair.

“You are so lucky.”

Lance scoffed. “He’s alright. Decent to look at, Cuban, funny, mama’s boy… mostly a disaster of a person and sometimes a jackass. Word on the street is he’s got writer’s block at the moment. His publisher is… not amused.”

“He sounds interesting.”

“You’re sweet, Shiro. I’d tell you not to give him too much credit but who knows? He might surprise me again. Kinda got a love hate relationship with the guy so we’ll see.”

Shiro smiled.

“I’m sure he will. I believe in him.”

Lance paused, really looking at Shiro. Past all the hotness and down to the authentic optimism and sentimentality.

“You really are something. Say, you got a nice head of hair. Why cut it?”

Shiro’s smile faded slightly and Lance immediately regretted asking but Shiro spoke before Lance could tell him he didn’t have to explain.

“I was in the marines. When I was overseas I was captured. It took me two months to escape, but in that time, they took my arm and my hair grew out. I… don’t want the same haircut from my time in service but I do want something that makes me feel more like myself.”

There was something painful about the clinical way in which he said it. 

“Prisoner of war… wait… Shiro… as in, Takashi Shirogane?”

Shiro nodded, avoiding his eyes.

Lance whistled low. “Man, I only heard about it on the news. I’m sorry you went through that. And I’m happy you’re here now.”

Shiro found it in himself to smile again.

“Thank you. I am, too.”

Lance leaned over, resting his hand over Shiro’s, earning a wide-eyed look from the larger man as he spoke with fierce determination in his eyes.

“Shiro, I’m gonna make sure you get the most bitchin' haircut Coran has to offer.”


	2. This Is Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro feels a little more alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is actually named after the song Am I Blue? but in my head it's Kevin Conroy as Batman singing it to save Diana from being a pig forever.

When it was Shiro’s turn, Lance went with him to Coran’s station. Shiro was urged forward by an excitable Lance.

“Make yourself comfy there, hotshot, Coran’s the best barber in town and you’ve got a lot of hair to work with.”

“Yes,” Coran said with a hum, running his hands through the silky strand of mismatched hair. “Stunning hair. You may even have enough for me to make a wig for someone I know.”

Shiro gaped at him. “You make wigs, too?”

“Coran makes everything. He also owns the boutique next door,” Lance bragged, always ready to talk up his dear friend. Coran gave him a discreet high-five in thanks.

“So,” said Coran, “what would you like me to do for you?”

Shiro shrugged, his gaze falling to the floor. "I don’t know, to be honest. I’m so used to military haircuts, but it doesn’t feel right anymore. I know I don’t want that. But I don’t want this post-POW hair either.”

Coran didn’t bat an eye at this information, only nodded in understanding and casting a glance at Lance who nodded and confirmed his suspicions with a silent mouthing of Shiro’s full name.

Shiro didn’t see the exchange but he did see Coran being mindful with the scissors and always showing them and approaching just quickly enough to be natural but also slow enough that Shiro could move away if he needed it, not knowing how deeply the veteran appreciated his unpatronizing care.

Shiro smiled softly, catching Lance’s eyes. The other man gave Shiro a reassuring smile in return and Shiro felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized how tense he was.

“How about an undercut?” Lance suggested.

Shiro made a motion with his hand that said “Meh” but really meant “No”.

“Well, I’d suggest a fade and fauxhawk but then you’ll come out looking like me: a diet fuck boi,” Lance muttered, earning a chuckle from Shiro, “So, that’s out.”

Shiro was still laughing and Lance glared half-heartedly at him.

“It’s not funny, Shiro,” he said, tapping the r for emphasis. “I’m serious. Fuck boi lite. Bargain fuckboi. I’m talking Great Value fuck boi.”

Shiro was crying with laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. “pfft… hahaha- don’t- haha’ don’t worry, Lance.”

There was a brief pause.

“I’m sure you’re designer brand fuck boi.”

They both giggled and Shiro rolled with it as Coran gathered some products.

“You think?”

Shiro nodded, a stupid grin on his face. “The good shit, too…You’re a Prada or… I don’t know, a Versace fuck boi.”

Lance leaned against the vanity, a hand dramatically draped over his head and the other clutching his chest.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has anyone ever said to me!”

Shiro choked on a laugh. Lance was honestly going to kill him like this.

He was given water by Coran and Shiro was unsure where he conjured it from since he hadn’t moved from behind Shiro.

Coran slowly turned Shiro around and leaned in close, resting a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro could swear he saw his perfectly styled mustache twitch of its own accord as the barber eyed him seriously.

“Shiro?”

Shiro gulped. “Yes?”

“Do you trust me?”

Shiro breathed deeply. “Yeah. I do.”

Coran nodded. “Good! I’m gonna surprise you,” he said, back to his chipper self.

Shiro looked to Lance for help but the other man only shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face as he shook his head at the older man’s antics. The obvious fondness kept Shiro at ease.

Before he knew it, quick but gentle hands were snipping away at his long hair and revealing the face hiding behind overgrown bangs and Shiro couldn’t see a thing as he wasn’t facing a mirror. But Lance stood a few feet behind him, smiling.

He was okay. It was okay. He wanted this. He was happy he’d run into Lance, though. He realized now he initially would have done this alone and the idea of it compared to right then where he had support was unpleasant.

Unbeknownst to Shiro, Lance nearly bit his own fist to contain himself from reacting.

Shiro was gorgeous.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself.

Coran was doing a stellar job of cutting his hair in the most flattering way possible.

Before long, Coran was blowing it dry and adding some product for extra flair.

He saw Lance shifting, restless and stepped back to allow him the honors.

Shiro felt himself being spun around, the whoosh of air tickling his neck. There were warm brown hands covering his eyes and he felt them more than he would have with his old mop of hair covering his face.

He heard Lance’s voice whispering excitedly behind him. “Okay, before I let you see, I just want to let you know you look like you could give Poe Dameron a run for his money with this hair. It is that serious.”

Lance could feel Shiro rolling his eyes.

“Really? Serious enough to compete with my husband, Oscar Isaac?”

Lance gasped.

“Shiro, you totally get me. Alright have a look.”

He moved his hands and Shiro caught sight of his own reflection, seeing someone other than marine and prisoner for the first time. It wasn’t as short as he’d expected, and he was glad for it. As for the style, Lance had a fairly spot on impression of it. He briefly pictured himself in Space fighting an evil empire, a thought that was quickly gone when he reminded himself that he did that already in real life and it wasn’t as exciting then. But it looked good.

Really good, he thought, unable to help his smile.

He wanted to run his hands through it but was afraid to ruin it. His white forelock was styled artfully into the rest of his perfectly tousled hair.

“You look like a badass sci-fi Disney prince,” Lance said.

Shiro laughed.

“Thanks,” he said, a smirk on his face that came more easily to him.

Lance noticed the change and was not complaining about his regained confidence. Shy Shiro was cute but Shiro deserved the best and to feel his best.

Shiro stood up grabbing Lance and Coran’s hands and pulling them to him in a hug.

They reciprocated immediately- Coran because he was a hugger and Lance because Reasons.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling away.

Coran waved him off. “All in a day’s work, my boy. Now, I believe Lance is also in need of a haircut?”

Lance plopped into the chair.

“Yup! My turn.”

“Will it be the usual?” asked Coran.

Lance exchanged a look with Shiro, arching a brow.

“Versace fuck boi?”

Shiro nodded, mustering his most serious expression.

“Versace fuck boi.”

Coran brandished a clean pair of scissors, again, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Say no more.”


	3. Cartier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coran notices things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God. I have been so busy y'all. I started working full time and my hours are graveyard basically. Anyway I am so sorry this took so long and that this chapter is so short. It's kind of an intermission chapter. But after this it should be full steam ahead. It might not be that long of a fic but thank you to everyone who is still with me despite my inconsistency.

Lance’s hair turned out to be different than he was expecting.

He still had a familiar fade, but Coran made certain to give him a cute undercut that showed off his curls, something he had often kept hidden.

He twisted a finger into a loose curl. He felt as groomed as he typically liked but also freer.

He spun in his chair with a pleased smirk, looking up at Shiro.

“So? What do you think?”

Shiro smiled, twisting one of Lance’s curls between his fingers, making Lance’s breath catch. He leaned down, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“I think you surpassed Versace. You’re more Cartier,” he said, releasing Lance’s curl and letting his finger trail down Lance’s cheek.

Lance flushed, holding his breath until Shiro stepped back.

“Thanks,” he breathed.

Shiro shrugged. “Was just being honest.”

Lance cleared his throat. “Right… anyway,” he said, standing and turning to Coran, “Thanks again. You always do the best job.”

Coran patted his head, careful not to ruin the styling.

“Anytime, my boy. Besides, I love your hair. It’s an honor to be able to cut and style it,” he said, walking back to the front counter.

Lance followed him, giving him a wink that went unnoticed by Shiro. Coran nodded in understanding, taking Lance’s card and processing the transaction, giving it back to him silently.

Lance went back to Shiro, who was still staring into a mirror as if he couldn’t believe he was actually looking at himself.

“I gotta go. I have some business to take care of, but I hope I’ll see you around, Shiro.”

Shiro startled, eyes drawn to the friendly man who had made him feel more human in a single hour than he had in months.

“Oh! Yes. I hope I do see you again. Thanks for today, by the way.”

Lance grinned. “Don’t mention it,” he said with a final wave.

And then he was gone.

Shiro walked up with cash in hand only for Coran to wave him off.

“It’s already been taken care of.”

Shiro froze. “What- Lance?”

Coran nodded. “Yep! He seems quite fond of you,” the older man said.

Shiro bowed his head, red filling his cheeks.

“Thanks… say… Coran?”

“Hmm?”

“What does Lance do?”

Coran froze.

Not many knew about Lance’s job. Coran only did because he’d proofread for him when he was first starting out and Allura was his goddaughter.

“Ahem… he’s a… content creator.”

Shiro perked up.

“Oh? So that’s how he knows Blu. They must have worked together before.”

Coran chuckled, a bead of sweat working its way down his forehead.

“Er… Yeah!”

Shiro beamed and Coran suddenly understood Lance’s predicament. Shiro was too young for Coran’s tastes and Coran was taken anyhow but Lance being smitten so quickly was less of a surprise now.

“Well, thanks! I gotta go but I’ll be back in a couple of weeks for a trim. Bye, Coran!”

“Take care, Shiro.”

Then the other man was off and Coran was left alone in a barbershop with a lot to think about.

Lance had been alone for a long time. Perhaps his writer’s block could be remedied with a little good company for inspiration…


	4. Author's note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not Chapter

Y'all,

I'm sorry. Life has been hectic and I'm discontinuing some of my fics including this one. I just lost so much motivation especially with my feelings about VLD and the fandom this past year. I don't mean to let anyone down. I hope you understand.

-Cyborg

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?  
> More to come!


End file.
